To The Future!
by BatWingteenavenger
Summary: Nightwing never appeared in Batman Beyond. This is what COULD have happened if that fact was not true. Set after Return of the Joker. Reviews welcome!
1. First Contact

**Disclaimer: **Don't own 'em. If I did, then the show would have definitely featured Nightwing!

**A/N**: I saw Return of the Joker tons of times but haven't seen any other BB stuff because I was not at all thrilled with the way it was set up and was quite irked that Nightwing didn't appear AT ALL in the series. With that in mind, I decided to make this fic a kind of 'what if?' told from Terry's point of view. R&R Please!

* * *

He looked a lot like me, except his _presence._ While I had my Batsuit and high tech equipment, he still flew using a grapple. Actually, I was a bit surprised. I had met the old Robin, Tim Drake, and had not been disappointed by his appearance. _This_ guy, though, looked like he had found the Fountain of Youth; his black hair had not a hint of grey, and his face—what I could see around the domino mask he wore—was unchanged. A scream pierced the air and off he went. I followed close behind and what I saw amazed me to no end.

The blue-and-black clad vigilante was sitting idly by and watching while an elderly woman screamed her head off like she was being tortured. I wondered why the guy was just standing there, when out of nowhere a small form swooped in, picked up the banshee lady and carried her safely down to the sidewalk. Then the lady disappeared and the vigilante on the rooftop grappled down to meet the smaller form in blue on the ground.

"Good work, Jay. Remember, though, next time be a tad bit faster. The civilian could have been in serious danger. One false move or delay and it's goodbye to the old lady."

The small, flame-red head of hair nodded, and then pointed right at _me_! The older vigilante nodded and shrugged, as if getting spied on by Batman was a regular thing for him. The air was suddenly filled with laser fire and both masked figures went into action.

It was _amazing _watching him move. I can do lots of cool flips and tricks while wearing the Batsuit but that's kids stuff compared to what _he _could do with no enhancements or any form of aid. The guy was a gypsy—that much the files said—and he came from a circus. However, the files left out how _good _an acrobat he actually was, and apparently still _is. _Even giving an offending baddy a kick in the jaw looked graceful-especially when said kick had been performed upside-down on one hand. His blue-and-black form seemed to be everywhere at once, lashing out in every direction. I saw traces of Bruce's fighting style woven in with his movements and knew how this was going to end. Those losers didn't have a chance.

After the battle was over I decided to tail my quarry. This proved to be impossible and I was quickly found out. I found myself pinned to a wall by my throat by a gauntleted fist.

"What are you doing here and why are you following me?!" The voice was deep, like mine when I'm wearing the Suit, which I was. _Short and sweet, Terry! Remember, answer like the Bat!_

"An old associate of yours needs help. My contact said you'd be willing."

The grip on my throat tightened as Nightwing pondered my words. Apparently he was as trusting as his mentor. In other words, he was a bit suspicious.

"I had my doubts, now they're confirmed. Batman is his _own _contact; whatever info he gets, he gets on his own."

"Things change."

"Facts don't. Fact is, you aren't _him_."

"Maybe not the one _you _know. I'm not trying to be him. I'm my own man."

Nightwing chuckled and dropped his guard and his fist. The growl I _know _he learned from Bruce dropped out of his voice as he turned his back on me and raised a gauntlet, unsheathing a grapple gun.

"Follow me. We'll talk at my place."

He freefell almost thirty feet, before launching the grapple. I watched as his young protégé followed suit, and then I ignited my boosters and rocketed after them.


	2. Taking Action

**Disclaimer** Don't own a thing, except the kids, the machine, and the plot.

* * *

"Funny, but when you mentioned your 'place' I was thinking you meant 'hideout'. Are you sure it's wise to let me in on your secret identity? Your _personal_ life? I mean, we just met." We were crouched on the roof of Nightwing's surprisingly small house; watching the red-headed boy entered his room via skylight. Nightwing grinned as he led me to another skylight that looked into the garage and I followed the vigilante through. Nightwing centered himself in a pool of light and commanded,

"Civvies. Home." There was a blast of light and suddenly Richard 'Dick' Grayson stood there, Gotham Knights sweatshirt and all.

"You've been hanging around the big guy for too long, _Cadmus_."

So he _knew_**.** I still didn't like the reminder. "My name is—"

"Terry."

"I was going to say 'unimportant' but since you _know. . . _"

"Civvies."

I was suddenly dressed in my comfortable jacket, black shirt, and pants. Grayson grinned at my bewildered look and clapped me on the back.

"I know more about you than you know, McGinnis. Come on time's wasting and Kory's got dinner ready—I can smell it from here."

**NWBBNWBBNWBBNW**

After an amazing dinner that left me wondering if I was _ever _going to be able to fit in the Batsuit again, Grayson and I parked on the couch. Well, actually, _I _parked on the couch and my host sat across from me in an armchair; his fingertips pressed together in a thoughtful position.

"So what's the trouble, Terry?"

I leaned in close, "Like I said, a former associate of your needs your help. You remember Garfield Logan?"

"Changeling. Of course I do."

"Well the green guy informed me that the Fastest Man Alive—whom I understand was a close ally of yours back in the day—is about to become the Fastest Man _**Dead**_.**"**

Dick's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, cocking his head. This was Bat-speak for 'I'm listening intently now, please continue' so I elaborated.

"It seems the Flash ran into a blue substance down in Keystone while chasing a rogue. The substance seeped into his costume and he began feeling nauseous and weak. The guy had no idea what was happening to him but he seemed to know that it wasn't anything normal doctors would be able to diagnose. He used up the last of his energy hotfooting it to New York's Tower. Garfield found the Flash on the floor some time before noon last Thursday; blue gunk leaking out of his mouth and nose. The green guy's doing all he can but—he can't come up with a cure."

"He won't be able to." Grayson said darkly, standing up and heading for the garage. I followed and was suddenly face-to-mask with Nightwing.

"Batman. Suit up."

I was once again bathed in the eerie white light and within milliseconds the Batsuit's weight was once again mine to bear. "MAN! The Cave could _use _this gizmo!"

Nightwing smirked as he reminded me of an all-important fact that I should have memorized by now, while typing a message to Kory telling her that he was going AWOL for a while.

"You _**know **_Bruce never takes shortcuts."

He led me to a car that looked like a slimmed-down version of the Batmobile, with a stylized wing on the front that matched the one on his suit. The vigilante opened the cockpit. Circuitry glowed an electric blue, highlighting two seats and a storage space behind them. Nightwing gestured to the passenger seat with one hand while he ran systems checks.

"Get in. We're going to Titan's Tower."

**NWBBNWBBNWBBNW**

We broke several speeding laws on our mad rush out of California—which I had a few qualms about but just a few. After all, I DO drive the Batmobile. My main concern was well-founded.

"We're no good to _anyone_ if we're DEAD!"

Nightwing chuckled as he made a hard right, slamming me into my seat rest, "The Nightbird wasn't built for _luxury driving,_ Batman!"

We nearly ran into a cyclist and a bus and I gave the vigilante one of my Bat Looks of Disapproval but my driver just laughed. I grunted.

"What was wrong with taking the Batmobile?!"

"Nothing. The Nightbird has more seats, more supplies, defensive/offensive weaponry and shields, AND it feels and looks much more stylish!"

I grunted again.

"At least _my _car can _**fly**_!"

"The Nightbird _**can**_ fly; it just uses up the power cells, though. Besides, dodging through traffic is SO much _fun!_ "

"Alright, fine have it your way. You owe me answers to a question I have, though."

"Ask away."

I took a deep breath, and then started drilling. "Why haven't you aged? I mean, you should see Drake. He's grey and bitter to a fault."

Nightwing stiffened for an instant, then turned to me with a pointed look before continuing his mad steering. Horns honked and drivers yelled in the silence that followed my statement as the vigilante composed himself enough to answer.

"Considering what he went through, can you blame him?"

There was a tone in Nightwing's voice that wasn't directed at me. Just like Bruce, Grayson blamed himself for what the Joker had done to Robin. Although, in Nightwing's defense he hadn't even been in town when it happened and thus couldn't have helped even if he had wanted to. Realizing that the crafty vigilante had not only put himself on a mini guilt trip but had also succeeded in avoiding my original question (traces of Bruce's training showing through again; avoiding interrogations was part of the job description for all under the Bat's tutelage, apparently), I growled the Growl of Annoyance.

"I don't blame Drake for being a bitter old crow. I blame _you _for not answering my question. Why haven't you aged?"

There was a long pause. I swore that we ran over three pedestrians while that pause lasted but we couldn't hear them screaming over the squeal of the brakes as we entered the city of Las Vegas to refuel. As we left the Casino City, Nightwing ended the silence and sighed heavily.

"A villain by the name of Ras'al Ghul had a devious plan to kill every person on the planet."

I snorted, "How original."

The driver shrugged. "It's standard for him."

"I see. Go on."

"Any way, Batman and I stopped him but before we could bring him in, he flung red dust at Batman. Ras knew that I would jump in front of my mentor (I'd done it many times before and would gladly do it again if the need arises) and he was right. I backflipped spread-eagle and got coated in scarlet dust, which seeped into every miniscule opening in my Kevlar mesh. This in turn caused the powder to become absorbed into my bloodstream, tinted my costume brown and handing me a nasty curse to add to my misery. "

"Hold it! What was the dust, magic or something?! What do you mean 'curse'? I thought the _bad guys _were supposed to be the superstitious lot."

"Just be silent! Ras's magic works in strange ways with me, McGinnis. A drop of my blood has wrecked one of his spells in a HUGE way before, and the result was weird to say it simply. I won't go into the details of that encounter now, though. Stranger things have happened during my encounters with Ghul and his whacked-out magic-things that would blow your mind. It got to the point where Ras got so sick of me that he cursed my Romany heritage in nineteen different languages in one sitting—right before I kicked his butt for trying to turn Bludhaven into an ashtray."

I cocked my head to the side in thought, "So, this magician guy thinks that the reason his spells go haywire when any part of you interferes with his magic is because you're a Gypsy? Weird. So what did the evil pixie dust do to you?"

"The dust was supposed to make Bruce rapidly age until his years were used up and he turned to a pile of dirt. It wasn't going to happen to _me_ that way. Instead, the dust acted as the Elixir of Life. Ras laughed at me and said that I'd live young forever; forced to watched as my friends and family grew old and died. He said that my situation was a suiting punishment for Batman as well because he knew Bruce would blame himself for my curse, which we found out later, had no cure."

I thought for a moment, an epiphany hitting me like a blow to my gut.

"Do you think this Ras'al Ghul could be responsible for our little problem?"

Nightwing shook his head.

"No, this isn't his style and as much as I'm sure Ghul would _love _to get his hands on the Speed Force, Batman has always been his primary target. Now that Bruce is retired I highly doubt that that magician would be starting trouble now. You may be Batman, Terry but you're not- to many of the old rogues that can still cause trouble—you aren't the Bat they want."

We grew silent as we entered New Jersey. When we passed the city of Newark, Nightwing suddenly pulled over and growled under his breath, "No, no, no, NO! Jason Todd Grayson, you sooo did not pull a Spritle Racer on me-not _now!_" I wondered what he was talking about until he opened the trunk and got out; emerging from behind the tailpipe holding two squirming boys by the back of their Kevlar suits. The two stowaways looked guiltily at each other and cringed as their captor blew up as calm as a viper who's been disturbed.

"You two are in _serious _trouble and if I wasn't in such a hurry I'd cart your rears back home! Now, get in the back and fasten your restraints. If I hear one _peep _out of either of you unless I ask you a question or Batman addresses you, I'll tell uncle Gar to lock you in the holding room then I'll ground you from patrol for three weeks, got it?!"

The boys nodded and quickly complied. Their father leaped back into the cockpit and we were off again.

"So," I said, giving the Bat Glare to our uninvited passengers, "these boys are your protégés?"

"You could say that. Though technically they could be called my _offspring_. The one in red and orange is Flamebird 5, or Jimmy Gordon Grayson-which is what he'll stay if he's grounded from using his super hero name, *_Ahem!_* " The ticked off father looked pointedly at his fidgeting, shame filled son before continuing.

"You've already met Bluejay, aka Spritle, aka Busted, aka Jason Todd Grayson which is what _I _named him when he came out with hair the color of a robin's breast and the attitude of a real jerk. Right Jay?"

His seat was promptly kicked as a small voice protested, "Mommy told you to never say that again because according to where _she_ sat, if you had moved your face BEFORE I kicked it you wouldn't have broken your nose on my foot!"

It took all of my willpower to keep from laughing hysterically at the mental picture _that_ brought up! As the boys burst into fits of giggles, Nightwing turned as red as Bluejay's hair before growling to himself, "Yeah, and I also would have _dropped _you on your _head_, you little stinker. You _are _well named." Looking at the approaching skyline, the vigilante's eyes lit up again, humiliation and sourness forgotten as his gaze fell on one particular structure. Pointing, our driver announced,

"Aha! There's our exit! Keep your eyes to the east and your head straight and you'll be able to spot the Tower!" then to himself, so softly that only I could catch it, the vigilante whispered a silent plea:

"Hang in there, Wally! Help is on the way. I'm coming buddy. Titans Together!"


	3. The horror revealed

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot. That's all. Just the plot.

* * *

_I will be here for you  
Somewhere in the night  
Somewhere in the night  
I'll shine a light for you  
Somewhere in the night  
I'll be standing by  
I will be here for you_

--Michael W. Smith—

* * *

"Are we there yet? You said we would be there soon!" the little redhead was squirming uneasily. His father rolled his eyes and hissed,

"Hush, little Wing! We're very close."

"But. . .I _really _need us to be there _right now, _Daddy!"

Nightwing's eyebrows shot up as he realized his son's reason for asking an age-old roadtrip question.

"There will be NO accidents in the Nightbird!"

The squirming grew worse as the Tower got closer. When we finally stopped moving, Nightwing popped the cockpit and let his little twips get out of the car. Jason bolted to the nearest door in the massive underground garage and gasped in relief as he found the toilet. I ran a quick sweep and found the shwayest vehicle I had ever laid eyes on sitting under an old, rotting tarp. A voice suddenly came from behind me, making me jump.

"Isn't she beautiful? Vic built her himself."

I whirled around and saw my contact, uniform and all. The poor guy looked worn and drained but he was smiling. Nightwing rushed to his former team mate and the two embraced in brotherly greeting.

"Gar! Man it's good to see you! How's Wally? Are we—?"

"Just in time, dude. You haven't changed a bit. Wish _I _was that young still."

The green Titan was forced to stop talking and moving as two balls of Kevlar barreled into him from both sides.

"Uncle Gar! Uncle Gar!" The two Grayson boys cheered happily. Garfield looked at Nightwing and raised an eyebrow, "You and _Star?! _Man, you _did _have the hots for each other back in the day!"

"Shut up, Twip! There's someone I want you to meet. McGinnis, turn your cloaking device off. Sheesh, you're worse than the old man! There. Changeling, meet Batman in PERSON."

Changeling and I shook hands, then I said gruffly, "Ok, pleasantries aside, don't we have a hero to save?"

Nightwing cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. Changeling took several steps away from me and hissed to his former leader, "Man, he _is _worse than the old Batman!"

"He may be harsh, Gar, but Bruce was much harsher. However, the kid has a point. Let's head upstairs and see our partner."

**NWBBNWBBNWBBNW**

According to Nightwing, the Teen Titans broke up way before _my _dad was in his prime (how _he _knew my Dad is beyond me) so the Tower hasn't changed much as far as technology was concerned. They still had a Gamestation 2 for pete's sake!

"Ok, boys, have fun but don't break it, it's an antique you know." Garfield said, sweeping his hand towards the vidscreen that doubled for a window.

"Mega schway!" Flamebird exclaimed, hooking up to the system.

"Totally mega schway!" BlueJay agreed, sliding onto the couch next to his raven-haired brother. Nightwing chuckled, then grew serious as he led us past a room that had belonged to someone named Raven and into a room marked 'Medlab'. Changeling hesitated, his hand on Nightwing's shoulder.

"Brace yourself, Dick" the green Titan warned, "it's not a pretty sight."

Nightwing nodded and opened the door. What lay inside was a sight not even _I_ could bear, and I didn't know The Flash from Max Mercury. The sight literally drained Grayson's strength, and the black-clad vigilante fell to one knee and dry heaved for three full minutes. He then ripped off his mask and sobbed in anger, frustration, and sorrow. Once again, Garfield placed his hand on the grieving leader's shoulder. Grayson looked once more at the scene in front of him and broke down again, this time in cold, silent fury.

"Wally, what have they _done _to you?!"

The Flash was hooked up to so many LS systems that I had to use my x-ray scope to see the man behind the tubes. His costume was tattered and torn, and glowing blue splotches were covering the shredded cloth. The same substance was leaking out of the victom's nose and mouth. Unfortunately, that clogged up the respirator, which Changeling quickly replaced. The green guy was about to toss the contaminated re-breather into an incinerator but was stopped by a black-and-blue gauntlet. Garfield surrendered the device to Nightwing, and the former Titan leader straightened up, put his mask back on, looked back at the body on the med bed and grit his teeth. Then, with a tone in his voice that I've come to call the cold, determined Bat Tone, the vigilante announced,

"Watch him, Beast Boy. Keep him here and _away _from the Speed Force."

"But he won't enter the Speed Force if he's not run—"

"Batman, analyze the substance and see what your suit can come up with as far as chemical components. I'm going down to my workshop. Do NOT contact me unless absolutely necessary."

The vigilante left without a glance back. Garfield sighed, "Some things never change."

I was confused, "He's been like this before?"

"Oh, yeah. When we were Titans, Dick didn't even tell us his real name until he became Nightwing. While he was Robin, he was a _tad _obsessive during any contact with our number one villain, Slade Wilson AKA Deathstroke the Terminator. If Robin happened to find any clues that could lead to Slade, he locked himself up in his workshop and didn't talk to _anyone_-not even _Starfire—_for days. Believe me, Bats, this kind of behavior is nothing new."

"Do you think that Nightwing--?"

"Naw, he knows that Slade couldn't _possibly_ be linked to all of this."

"How do you know? It's a possibility."

"No it isn't. Not even close."

"Why not?!"

"Because, Batman, Nightwing knows something that you don't."

"What's that?"

"Slade Wilson is _DEAD._"


End file.
